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Chapter Sixty-six
Rion
A female’s high pitched scream echoed through the walls over and over and over again. Rion could hear her chains rattle and swore he heard a male’s voice laughing. He tried to scent the male, to identify his captor, but whoever it was didn’t feel the need to visit him yet. Maybe he never would. Maybe his captor’s goal was to leave him here to starve to death or die of dehydration.
Rion licked his parched lips and a shiver ran down his spine when the female screamed again. He wondered how long she’d been here and what kind of horrors she was facing.
The girl who’d given him food and water hadn’t visited today or yesterday. He knew it was because their captor was present. Either he’d beaten her so hard that she couldn’t fulfill her duties or he’d commanded her against visiting.
Rion still didn’t know how long he’d been here. He would ask the next time he saw the girl, maybe even inquire about the female’s wellbeing. Perhaps he could get them both out if fate allowed it.
Fate. It had trapped him here against his will and Rion had no way of escape. The chains were too sturdy, his body was too weak, and the girl was too afraid of her master. He wasn’t sure what options he had now. He supposed he could pray for a miracle, but the gods had never answered him before.
Rion waited by the bond with fear and trepidation. Three strands. That’s all they had left. Three little pulses of life that told him his mate still sat at the other end.
She didn’t stir and he still refused to touch them, afraid they’d snap with the slightest amount of pressure. He just needed to know she was there. He wouldn’t survive the visions otherwise.
Time passed. Sometimes his arms were loose, hanging free at his sides; other times they were above his head and Rion swore his shoulders would be ripped from their sockets. His vision blurred and heat rose through him, flooding his body in agonizing waves. He tried to lick his dry lips to no avail and struggled against the haze forming behind his eyes.
Dying. He was dying.
He needed water, food, rest, heat. Anything. He’d gladly take anything.
The door hinges squeaked, but Rion couldn’t open his eyes to see who had entered. His arms were overhead again, joints pulled tight. His head pounded. His ears rang, then a cool cup met his lips.
Rion all but lunged toward the lukewarm liquid, taking large gulps without caring what he might be drinking. He pulled at the chains, wishing for the freedom to yank the cup from the bearer’s hand.
His stomach churned and Rion gasped when the last of the liquid ran down his throat. He needed more. So much more.
Then, by some miraculous blessing, the cup found him again. Rion drank it down greedily. She offered again. And again. Maybe the gods were watching after all.
Rion finally opened his eyes to find the girl staring at him, holding the cup between her small hands. The oil lamp burned in the doorway as it had last time, and it cast a wide shadow over her frail form.
Bruises lined her jaw and her left eye was swollen shut. He clenched his fists but tried to keep his anger at bay this time. He didn’t want to frighten her.
“Hi,” he managed in a weak voice, but the girl still jumped. She stared another moment, then reached for something on the tray and scrambled up on the stool to offer it to him. Bread.
“It’ll help you hold down the water,” she said. Rion took a few bites and she backed away again, still staring. “You didn’t tell him.”
Rion raised a brow. “Didn’t tell him what?”
“That I spilled the water.”
“He didn’t visit me.”
“Oh.”
“But I wouldn’t have said anything.”
She twisted her bare foot in the dirt on the floor. Did he not give her shoes either? “Do you want some more water?”
“Please.” The girl ran from his cell and returned a moment later. “He won’t be back for a while.”
“How do you know?”
“He said so. I have to ration the food when he leaves, but sometimes it still isn’t enough. I don’t think he cares.”
Rion cleared his throat. “I heard someone screaming.”
